The Fifth Witness
by Ella M. Nite
Summary: For Sam and Dean, it was a simple case, one they forgot about as soon as they were on the road again. From the fifth witness' prospective though, there was nothing simple about it. One-shot.


_AN: So this is a quick little one-shot. This is a 'basic' hunt as seen through the eyes of a witness. Very different from my usual type of fanfiction. Please leave a review to tell me what you think. _

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**Witness #5**

**By Ella M. Nite**

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The Mapleton Theatre was a historic building. One of the oldest in the area, it stood tall and proud in the middle of the town, across from the town hall and police station. Never mind that the plumbing needed to be updated, the lights continually flickered and rats infested the entire place.

The theatre, much like the town itself, had seen better days. The paint was chipped and needed repair – but there was no money available to fix the problems. So the locals turned a blind eye to it. When their gazes fell on the decrepit building which loomed over the town they saw the ghost of the former glory of the town of fifteen-thousand. Back when jobs were plentiful, the town booming, and a professional acting group had actually preformed on the stage of the Mapleton Theatre. Now it was home to a community theatre.

Now plays were put on only four times a year. The seats, if they were lucky, would be half-filled on a good night. The actors were a group of people who ranged in talent from stuttering fools unable to say a word in front of people and people who had taken one acting course and thought they were God's gift to the art form.

Jenny Groves was one of the actors – and liked to think she was the middle ground between the two extremes. At twenty-five she was the youngest member of the community theatre. That is, if you didn't count the children who would put on the Christmas show. She had moved to the small town only a year ago, and the community theatre had been more than happy to see someone 'so young' interested in theatre. They had immediately dusted off old scripts which called for a younger woman and had started to plan her first performance.

It was seven o'clock rehearsal in the middle of February and Jenny walked from her little apartment down two blocks to the theatre. As she stood in front of the building, shivering, she waited for the other cast members to arrive. It was such a small hike from her place to the decrepit theatre that she hadn't dressed too warmly. A blue ski jacket had been crammed on, but she hadn't thought to bring a hat. So curly brown hair whipped into her face thanks to the chilled February wind that stung her brown eyes. She wished she had the nerve to just enter the damn building. It was silly, but the old building scared her. She always waited for someone else to arrive before going in – even though they had given her a key. Sometimes, when she was in there, she felt like some one was watching her. Which was silly ... she supposed it was just the empty seats.

It was 7:05 pm when she finally gave up. It was cold and, even though she had remembered to grab mitts, the tips of her fingers were so cold they felt like fire. Fumbling with her keys, she slipped into the building, wondering what was taking everyone. There had been a snow storm the day before, and a few people were from out of town … she hoped they made it okay.

Looking around the dark foyer, Jenny tried to think of positive things. The long shadows and eerie golden glow cast from the street light outside was playing with her mind. It was freaking her out. Taking a deep breath she counted to three before bolting across the lobby to the panel of light switches on the other side of the room. As she turned the lights on, the lighting overhead flickered then died. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt those invisible eyes on her again. Quickly turning the lights on and off again … nothing. There was a scratching noise near her that made Jenny jump.

"Stop it Jenny," she muttered to herself. "It's probably just Frank the rat."

Flicking the lights once more, Jenny gave a sigh of relief when the lights finally worked. Sure, they were flickering uncontrollably, but at least it was something.

It was weird that Harvey wasn't here. The old man lived in the theatre. A sweet old man, he barely spoke a word. Everyone loved him though, because he had single-handedly rewired the place for free. In every show he would sit up in his booth and work the light board. Of course, Jenny wasn't sure how great Harvey was at rewiring since the flickering lights seemed to be an ongoing problem.

"Harvey!" Jenny called out as she went through the double doors into the stage area. She could see the back stage lights were on and breathed out a sigh of relief. Feeling a lot better knowing she wasn't the only one in the building. "Harvey? Where are you?"

Silence.

Jumping onto the stage, she manoeuvred her way past boxes they had been using to figure out blocking until the stage was built. Making her way past the back-curtains, she was surprised not to see Harvey's wrinkled face or white hair. The area seemed to be empty. Frowning, she glanced around, past the start of the prop table and rack of costumes.

"Harvey?" She called out. "Hello? Anyone?"

Someone was going to be in huge trouble for leaving the light on. The theatre drained more money than it made, and anyone adding to that was in for stern talking to by the board. Sighing, Jenny was about to leave when she felt something warm drop onto her head. Squealing, she jumped away, her hand automatically rising to wipe whatever it was off her head.

Bringing her hand back down, her breath was caught in her throat at the sight of red. The substance was thick and warm and red … very, very red. With no control over her body, she felt her eyes rise up against her strong desire not to see where this red substance had come from.

Her breath caught in her throat. Harvey was hung, gutted, and slightly dangling from the stage lights. His stark white, wispy hair matching his parchment-discoloured skin as his unseeing eyes bored into Jenny's. His mouth was wide open in silent scream and one lonely hand reaching down as if trying to grab her. Letting out a scream, she backed up hastily tripping on the curtain and falling on her tale bone. As cried out in pain, she saw a man in period costume off to the side of the stage.

"Call 9-1-1!" She yelled at him, before running off to the front lobby to make the call herself.

* * *

It had been four days since Harvey was killed.

His death was the talk of the town. How had the man gotten up there? There was no ladder found with him. No walkway. It was as if something had just placed him up there. The common rumour was that someone must have murdered him and placed him up there. Which … of course, immediately got the town talking about who the killer could be. Was it his ex-wife who always baked cookies for the church (who he had left for a younger woman … a whole two years younger)? Was it his son-in-law (he did drive a motorcycle)? Did he have an addiction which the town did not know about? Maybe there was a serial killer in town?

Jenny did not care. She didn't care if his drug-lord made a pact with his motorbike-driving son-in-law to protect his church-going-ex-wife's honour … or whatever crazy rumour the locals created. The only she wanted was to go to sleep and not see the man dangling, staring down at her. She wanted to be able to go one day without thinking she felt the warm, thick splash of blood on her scalp. Just one day not haunted by Harvey the Light-guy.

Jenny was just happy it was Saturday.

She had barely slept all week. So that cloudy Saturday morning, she had just lain there on her bed. Today she did not need to go to work. No one would be asking her about how she was doing, or ask her to recount everything she had seen. The police had been given their statement. She had purposefully not told her parents. Otherwise she would never get a reprieve.

It was almost noon when she finally got out of bed and into the shower. She was going to have a regular day even if it killed her. Dressing in her Saturday cleaning clothes which consisted of ripped jeans and an old worn tank-top, she gathered her wild mane of curls on-top of her head before starting to clean. Blaring 'Hey You' from her laptop, she put on her classic rock playlist.

She had just finished vacuuming and was mid-dusting when her doorbell rang. Not bothering to turn her music down, she went to open the door. There were only two people who would be knocking on the door. Either it was Anne or Mark … or both. Friends from her work, it would be just like them to swing by and make sure she was doing okay. Swinging the door open, duster in one hand, radio blaring and dirt smudged on her cheek – she was not expecting to see two men standing there. Both men stood towering over her five foot two inches frame, especially the one with longer hair. Dressed in smart suits, she wondered if they were Jehovah Witnesses or something. Reaching into their pocket's they pulled out two FBI badges. Jenny's heart dropped … she should have known Harvey would find a way to haunt her today.

"Um, Miss Groves?" The shorter man asked.

"Yes," she answered needlessly. Who else would be answering her door?

"I'm Agent Angus and this is my partner Agent Young, would you mind if we came in and asked you a couple of questions?" He asked professionally.

"Of course," Jenny offered, holding the door open to let them in. Once they came in, Jenny blushed, realizing the music was still blaring. "I'll, um, just turn that down."

"That's okay," Agent Angus smirked. "Bad Company … I like you music taste."

"Oh, yeah, I listen to just about anything. This morning just felt like a classic rock morning …" Jenny muttered. Feeling a bit unsettled that an FBI agent seemed to be slightly hitting on her, she went ahead and turned down the music so it was little more than background music. Offering her couch, she sat down on the opposite them.

"So, Jenny," the taller Agent Young said gently. "Would you please walk us through what you saw that night?"

"Sure, I saw a light was on backstage and when I went back I didn't see anyone. I was going to leave when …" Jenny felt a lump rise in her throat.

"I know this must be difficult for you," Agent Young said gently. "Take your time."

"Um, well, I felt … something drip on my head. Then I looked up and he was … hanging there. Mouth … mouth open and … mangled," Jenny took a calming breath. Blinking rapidly, she considered it a victory that she had finally gotten through telling without crying.

"That's it," she concluded. "I ran and called 9-1-1."

"What's the first thing you remember about when you entered the building?" Agent Angus asked.

"How does that help, Agent Angus?" Jenny asked, confused.

"Please, just Dean," he said with that slight smile. Jenny had to admit that in any other circumstance; she would have been very flattered by his attention, but right now was just not the time. "And anything, no matter how small, could be very important."

"Okay, um," closing her eyes to think back to that night. Jenny continued. "I just, I tried to turn on the lights."

"Tried?" Agent Young asked.

"Yes, the building is old and needs a lot of repairs. I flicked the lights on and they flickered and died. Then I tried again and then a third time they finally came on … but they were flickering so badly it was almost as bad as a strobe light," Jenny explained.

"And the wiring is old?" Agent Young asked for clarification.

"Well, no, Harvey actually just finished rewiring," Jenny frowned. "He was in charge of renovations for the building, he was always there. Never spoke much, but he was so kind. Though, no disrespect to his memory but he was a crap electrician because I swear once his repairs started, the lighting problems and plumbing and everything has seemed to have gone to shit. Pardon my French."

"That's alright," Dean waved aside her apology. "I think that is all we needed."

"Really?" Jenny asked, surprised they had wrapped up so soon. They hadn't even taken any notes about what she said.

"Yes, thank you for your time," Agent Young said, politely shaking her hand before they both got up to leave.

"I wish I could help more," Jenny frowned. "But maybe the other man saw something."

Both agents paused by the door, before turning around.

"I'm sorry, what other man?" Agent Angus … Dean asked.

"The other 9-1-1 call," Jenny said, not understanding what was so groundbreaking unless … had the man just ran off?

"There was no other 9-1-1 call," Agent Young said.

"When I found Harvey, there was an … I dunno, actor or something. I yelled at him to call 9-1-1 before running out to the lobby. By that time the cast and crew were arriving and there was so many people I lost track of him. I just figured the police were talking with him," Jenny explained.

"What did this man look like?" Dean asked.

"Well, he was in period costume, so he was probably an actor or something. It looked to be turn of the century. Had a bit of a goatee … that's about it, it was so quick. I barely got a glimpse of him," Jenny shrugged apologetically.

"That's fine," Agent Young said excitedly. "That really helped, thanks Jenny."

Within a minute Jenny was once again alone in her apartment. Shaking her head, she went back to cleaning. She hoped it had been helpful, but she was drained. Finishing her dusting, Jenny curled onto her bed and wished she could close her eyes without Harvey staring back at her.

* * *

It was two days later that Jenny heard that the grave of Frank McGillivray had been desecrated. It looked like some freak had burned his corpse. The man had been the pillar of the Mapleton Theatre, it was said his entire life had been devoted to that building. The town was in an uproar of who could have done such an act. Harvey's death tossed brutally out of the gossip circle. No one else had him haunting their dreams.

It was also the day the new wiring seemed to finally take effect. There was not even a slight flicker to the lights in the Mapleton Theatre.

* * *

It was five days after the grave desecration that Jenny broke, after one particularly bad nightmare, and phoned the police station. She asked if the FBI agents Angus and Young had had any success in finding the second 9-1-1 caller. That was when she learned that there had been no FBI involved on the case. As well as finding out no one had ever found the mystery man.

* * *

It was two months later that Jenny went to see the show she was originally cast in. She had not been able to face the theatre before that. It was the first time in two months since she had stepped foot in the building. Halfway through the first act, she had to get some air. The nightmares had eased, but just sitting in the dark audience brought back too many memories … too many ghosts.

Making it to the lobby, Jenny paced and tried to calm her racing heart. Trying to focus her mind elsewhere, she studied the black and white photographs which highlighted the golden age of the theatre. In the third picture a man caught her eye. His goatee and clothing were the exact same as the man she had seen that night. Quickly leaning forward to read the plaque, she felt her heart miss a beat as she read the name 'Frank McGillivray'.

That was when Jenny started to wonder who those mystery men were … and if the grave desecration was really a random act of vandalism.

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_AN: So, love it? Hate it? Went 'meh'? Let me know! Reviews make me happy. And since this is a one-shot ... this will be the one time I ask you to review! But seriously, hope you liked it. Despite being OC heavy and just a little bit with our boys. ~Ella_


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